Weep, Little Lion Man
by PatronusIsAMockingjay3
Summary: Outside the war is raging on, and more and more people are dying. Even though they had learned to expect it, some deaths are sprung on you at a moment's notice and leave you reeling for ever. This was such a death. Blackinnon, rated T for death and mild language. Marauders Era Post-Hogwarts


**Weep, Little Lion Man**

_"Weep for yourself, my man,_

_You'll never be what is in your heart,_

_Weep little lion man,_

_You're not as brave as you were at the start."_

_- Little Lion Man, Mumford and Sons_

* * *

Creaking painfully, the window slowly slid shut as the tawny owl flapped away into the stormy sky, rain hammering against the walls of he messy flat. A chair lay broken and abandoned on the floors, leg shattered from being thrown violently against the wall, fractals scattered across the floor in an eclectic mess. The wind was howling and the storm kept raging on, masking the sound of the lone form's heart-wrenching grief.

Slumped, in the corner, parchment that delivered the soul destroying news clutched in one fist, he sat. Streams of tears ran down his face as Sirius sobbed; the sound was grating, wrong, each gasp for air a Herculean effort. He never cried in front of anyone, and even James, his brother in all but blood, had only seen him cry twice: the sight of the normally smirking boy sobbing without restraint could make even the coldest heart melt slightly.

Hours had passed since the owl had dropped off the devastating letter, and Sirius had yet to move. He didn't even flinch when his front door opened and a silhouette was cast over the whole room as lightening flickered and pulsed outside. The person stepped tentatively inside, but still Sirius didn't look up.

Footsteps echoed around the frigid room, inaudible in the rumble of mighty thunder and the beating of torrents of rain.

"Sirius?" they called out, approaching the shivering bundle in the corner, "Sirius, what's wrong?"

They didn't ask if he was okay, because there was no point - clearly he wasn't.

Eventually he looked up, eyes rimmed with red from constant crying to meet the swirling blue orbs of Marlene McKinnon.

"M-Marlene?" he whispered, gulping hard.

"Hey," she said sadly, reaching out to nervously cup his cheek, "What happened?"

His clouded grey eyes immediately started welling up with uncontrollable tears, one spilling over and rolling down his cheek. Whimpering softly as she raked her gaze over him, Sirius pulled the ruined parchment closer, away from her. She caught the movement and tried to grab the slip of faded paper from his protesting fingers. Sirius had been weakened by his grief, and she took it easily.

Reading it in her head, Marlene widened her eyes and gasped. Totally shocked, she let the note flutter to the ground, the neat, curved writing of Albus Dumbledore facing the grey ceiling:

"Mr. Black,

I regret to inform you that, from our source in the Death Eaters, your brother is dead. I am afraid I can only tell you this much, and cannot do anything to relieve your grief, as Voldemort has not divulged any information to anyone about Regulus' passing. I am very sorry for your loss.

Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class."

"Oh Sirius," she whispered, wiping his lone tear away before enveloping him in a tight hug.

"Nineteen," Sirius rasped, beginning to shake again. "He was only nineteen. A Death Eater at seventeen and dead two years later."

"I'm sorry," Marlene said shakily, burying her face against his neck as she tried desperately to calm him down.

He found he couldn't reply, couldn't fathom his thoughts into words, couldn't /cope/; instead he chose to cling more tightly to her, feeling her slip onto his lap and wind her fingers into his tangled, black hair.

"God, Sirius, I'm so sorry," she repeated, starting to fully comprehend the pain he was experiencing.

Sirius and regulus had never had an easy relationship, because Regulus (unlike his older brother) had welcomed the Black traditions of Slytherin, 'Toujours Pur' and blood purity and for a few years, Sirius would've gone as far as saying he wanted the youngest Black dead. However now that distant, unspoken opinion had become an all too present reality, Sirius was falling apart from his grief and guilt.

Grief that he had never told his brother he was sorry, that he hadn't wanted to leave him. Grief that he hadn't been able to save him from the destructive lifestyle he had signed up for. And guilt for his selfishness, assuming that Regulus had wanted to follow their parents' wishes - silent pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Sirius had never bothered to save Regulus, never hearing the cries for help.

And now he was gone.

Marlene desperately tried to wipe his tears even though her own cheeks were streaked with the salty droplets. Sirius was a lot taller and larger than Marlene but all he wanted to do was to be a little child and let her cradle him closely.

"I can't say it'll be alright straight away, because I'd be lying," she murmured, rubbing his back comfortingly, "But you'll feel better eventually."

"I don't want to," he replied, sniffling.

"You do, you can't want to stay like this forever, can you?"

Sirius didn't respond, just sat there shaking as he tried to rein his emotions in. Eventually, after a few comforting minutes of companionable silence, he stopped shuddering and rested his head on her shoulder, focussing on the faint feeling of her lips against his skin rather than his pain.

Their relationship was never this caring, and Sirius and Marlene only ever used each other for a cigarette or a quick shag; now they had left their childish behaviour behind them, unnoticed and unwanted emotional attachments had started to creep in. A year ago, if Marlene had witnessed Sirius in such a state she would've been mildly concerned and maybe asked James if he was okay. A year ago, if Marlene had seen him crying, Sirius would have told her to fuck off.

Now, however, they both stayed, curled up in the corner of his living room holding each other.

When Marlene pulled back, Sirius had a sudden moment of fleeting panic when he believed she was leaving. Grabbing her waist to prevent her getting up, Sirius looked at her with wide, scared eyes.

"Don't go," he pleaded, realising (not for the first time) since graduation how alone he was.

Sure he saw the Marauders most days, he had work, the Order and plenty of willing girls to entertain him, but with James and Lily married, Dorcas and Remus moving in together soon and everyone else seizing the moment, they were leaving Sirius for their own lives.

Flirtatious, womaniser Sirius who didn't need anyone else but the Marauders, who didn't /want/ anyone else. Except each day it felt more like a lie. Sure, he still loved a shag as much as the next person, and you could find him frequenting a London pub most nights, but his heart just wasn't in it any more. The war had changed him, like it had everyone.

"Sirius, you go and get into bed while I clean up in here," Marlene said, taking charge of the broken boy in front of her.

He nodded and dragged his frame across the room, face exhausted.

Once he had left, she repaired the fragmented chair, pocketed the abandoned note and closed the window against the fierce storm outside before following him into the bedroom.

He ha stripped down to his boxers, clothes crumpled on the floor, and was sitting hunched over on the end of the bed and Marlene sighed and touched his bare shoulder lightly, making him flinch.

"Into bed, come on," she said, tapping his arm, "I'm not your mother, or-"

His face crumpled and he collapsed backwards onto his mattress, trying desperately not to cry again.

"Shit, fuck, sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, I shouldn't have assumed you were okay," Marlene said, struggling for words. Clambering onto his warm bed, she flung her arms around him and bit her lip and she felt him begin to whimper again.

"Cry, Sirius, you can cry, I don't mind. It's okay, he's your brother, you love him, you're allowed to."

Sirius clung onto the back of her shirt as he, the unshakable Sirius Black, sobbed himself to sleep, Marlene's whispered apologies in his ear.

That night was the first night she stayed, and the day after would be the second, and it in erased until she was staying every night and her forgotten jumper became a pile, which became a draw, which became a wardrobe: when the nightmares came for both of them, she stayed; when neither of them could sleep, she stayed; and when all they did was talk until the early hours of the morning and cry for their lost friends, she stayed. Because everyone needs someone, sometimes it just takes tragedy to find hope.

* * *

_"And it was not your fault but mine,_

_And it was your heart on the line,_

_I really mucked it up this time,_

_Didn't I, my dear?"_


End file.
